Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Turns In His Grave — Live-Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 117 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

The judge said “It wasn’t Farley Granger’s doppelgänger?” “No it was his twin brother Willum’s.” “He had a twin brother AND a doppelgänger?”

Now I was confused. Was that it? Did Willum Granger have a twin brother AND a doppelgänger? Sitting beside me in the car, Regi says “YES!”

I look up from my phone “Yes what?” “YES! There is a doppelgänger!” “That’s what I was trying to tell the judge!” “I know who it is!” “Huh?”

Regi continues “It wasn’t a ghost, clone or the walking dead. It MUST have been Stuart Granger! He’s alive! ALIVE!” “I already know that.”

“You already know that? How?” “It’s elementary. Once you eliminate the improbable whatever remains, no matter how impossible, is the truth.”

“You’ve got that wrong.” “I made it up myself.” “I don’t think so. ‘Though he might have been more humble, there’s no police like Holmes.'”

“Then let’s examine the facts. Fact 1: Someone who looks just like your father came to my office.” Regi says “Maybe it was a disguise.”

“If so it was a good one. He was a dead ringer. Fact 2: Farley was murdered while hiding from the imminent appearance of the Singularity.”

Regi says “Maybe it was an accident.” “If so it was a good one. Fact 3: Your uncle Stuart is considered dead, but his body was never found.”

“Maybe it was a premature ejaculation.” “If so it was a good one.” “So they wrote him off too soon?” “It’s the only impossible explanation.”

“Of all the craziness we’ve experienced, that’s what you find impossible?” “Improbably, yes.” “What does it mean if Stuart is still alive?”

“Heads will roll. Two things. One: Stuart Granger is the doppelgänger not Farley. Two: He’s behind all of this and you’re part of it.” “Me?”

“The first thing the doppelgänger wanted me to do was rescue you from that medical school. He never told me why, but it must be important.”

Watching the road Regi says “If your visitor was Uncle Stuart incognito it would explain why he wanted me shielded from the paradigm shift.”

“OK. Why make it a mystery? Why play games?” “What games did he play with you?” “Knock knock.” “Who’s there?” “No. He played knock knock.”

“You played knock knock with someone you thought long dead?” “Yes. It gave a new twist to the question ‘Who’s there?’ “Or, who isn’t there.”

“What did he answer?” “‘Not who you think I am.'” “So Stuart thought that you thought that he was my father’s spirit, back from the grave?”

“He answered in riddles. I don’t know what he thought.” “But what does it mean if Stuart is still alive?” “It means we have to find him.”

Regi frowns “I don’t think it means that. He’ll find us when he’s ready.” “If he’s alive.” “Not if. When.” “When what?” “When he’s ready!”

“Yes. If he’s alive.” We drive on in silence. Finally Regi asks “Did you finish your prison story?” “It’s not a story. It really happened.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Diving Out — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 116 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

A pool of darkness opened at my feet and was far deeper than the blackest night. I dove in. It had no bottom This was my chance to escape.

I was either dead or my watch stopped. Was death my ultimate exit? It was not what I expected. First of all I was still really cold. Uh oh.

Once again I experienced the ineffable. No more mysteries, collecting clues, collaring culprits, confronting cons. I was perfectly at peace.

That feeling of postmortem serenity happened to me before. Regi says “Yes. In Puerto Rico. You fainted when you thought you’d been shot.”

“I didn’t faint. I experienced the ineffable.” “Uh huh.” “Regi, are you reading my Twitter feed?” “I just glance over from time to time.”

“Well, keep your eyes on the road. We’re almost at my apartment.” Where was I? Oh, yeah. I wasn’t. The blackness had devoured me. I was out.

“All the same, I was still in. From deep in the black pool I heard a voice. “Arkaby wake up!” “Lemme sleep Ma. I’ll look for a job tomorrow.”

“I opened my eyes. I was in a small cell in just my underwear. “I’m not dead?” “No, but you look like it.” He placed a compress on my head.

“You may have a concussion. Do you want to go to the infirmary?” “Yes.” “Let me warn you going to the medic prolongs your stay.” “Then no.”

“I realized I was no longer in the group holding cell. “How did I get here? Where is everybody else?” They’ve all gone before the judge.”

“Where are my pants?” “We found you like this.” “OK. Give me something to wear.” “This is a holding facility. We don’t have prison garb.”

“I can’t go before the judge like this! Get me something!” “Now?” “Yes!” “Let me warn you finding you pants prolongs your stay.” “Then no.”

“I walked into court and took a seat. One by one detainees stood before the judge and were either released on bail or remanded into custody.

“My turn. Clad only in underwear, I stood before the judge as she read my file. Then she said “You are former Detective Arkaby?” “Yes I am.”

“Where are your clothes?” “I don’t know. They vanished mysteriously last night.” “Are you in here for drunk and disorderly?” “No I am not.”

“It says here you vaporized a man in his own safe room. Is that correct?” “No, Your Honor.” “It doesn’t say that?” “I mean I didn’t do it.”

“The judge looked back over my file. “Your Honor I can clear up this confusion. Farley Granger believed himself a target of the Singularity.”

“The what?” “The Singularity. When computer intelligence exceeds human, changing civilization.” “Why would this Singularity target him?”

“Because he thought he knew how to stop it.” “Stop it from doing what?” “Changing our paradigm.” “Our what?” “Our understanding of reality.”

“The judge stared over her reading glasses. “What have you got to do with this?” “Granger’s doppelgänger hired me to stop this Singularity.”

“Doppel what?” “Doppelgänger. I thought it was his ghost or his clone or he was the walking dead.” The judge continued staring. “It wasn’t.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Neither Light Nor Heat — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 115 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“During his last cloning procedure you were lead surgeon. Didn’t you use fast-dissolving sutures around his middle to close him up?” “No.”

“Then didn’t you change his cell ringtone to ‘Call to Post’ so when it rang his bottom half ran off leaving his top behind?” “Ridiculous!”

“You TOLD me you did that before you shoved Regi and me into that freezer.” “That’s not how I remember it.” I suddenly realized the truth.

I was freezing! Don’t they heat these cells at night? Draping my torn shirt over my shoulders I said “A, are you playing me?” “Playing you?”

“Are you robotically denying everything I say?” “No.” “You just denied what I said again.” “No, I didn’t.” It was going to be a long night.

A settled beside me, closing his eyes. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined I’d be spending jail time with my former nemesis.

One justly convicted of murdering of Willum Granger. The other falsely accused of killing his brother, Farley. We would make quite a selfie.

A had misused his Police Coroner status to cover up his heinous crime. He had broken his Hippocratic Oath by bringing harm to his patient.

I knew where, how and when he did it. I still didn’t know why. What was A’s real beef with Willum Granger? This was my chance to find out.

Quietly, so I didn’t disturb my fellow inmates I whispered “Hey A! Tell me again why you were driven to murder Willum Granger.” No response.

I tried again “A! This is a chance to justify yourself!” A began snoring. “A!” “Zzzz.” A joined the chorus of snoring and muffled breathing.

What had A said before tossing us in the freezer? “It was necessary.” As Coroner A had controlled the evidence, subverting my investigation.

It made perfect sense! No wonder A bested me. He must have seen my Twitter posts as manna from heaven. Maybe I should switch to Snapchat.

As he forced Regi and me into the Morgue freezer, A denied he had done it for love or money. Out of options, I had asked my final question:

“A, why did you kill Granger?” “Granger took his augmentation too far.” Then A made a reference to a man becoming a god which I didn’t get.

Granger cloned and replaced every part of his body to become superman. His doppelgänger implied it was to combat a pending paradigm shift.

I was on the cusp of an epiphany! A executed Granger to prevent his eminent ascension. Farley was killed warning of an immanent Singularity.

Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush crack crick crick. Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since?

Eureka! Suddenly a lightbulb went BINK above my head. The cell doors swung open as a guard wheeled in a breakfast cart. I had fallen asleep.

“Breakfast!” the guard called. As my fellow inmates gathered for their individual cereal boxes, milk cartons and apples I tried to stand.

While I slept someone pulled my pants down to my ankles. Why would they do that? I toppled and struck my head on the bench in front of me.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Erotic Prison Playtime— Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 114 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

I scroll back to my time in the clink. A called me an ape. I lifted him up by his lapels. What were we fighting about? Oh yeah. His bench.

Regi says “No, you fought over Stuart Granger.” She’s right. It was nighttime. Crowded prisoners dozed in a cell as dark as my captive soul.

I wrestled in the dark with A, my former nemesis, prior Director of Willum Granger’s cloning lab, “Body Parts R Us” and also his murderer.

That wasn’t the first time the two of us had tangled. In our previous struggle A had shoved Regi and me into a freezer and locked the door.

The memory of it still gives me chills and not in a good way. In our latest struggle A had ripped off my shirt. Also not in a good way.

I just wanted somewhere to sit for the night. A said “You’ve never had any idea what you’re meddling in!” “That hasn’t stopped me before!”

Still grasping A’s lapels I said “You’re not so tough when you don’t have a gun to back you up.” A tried to sucker punch me in the groin.

Fortunately I was turned sideways to shrink my target area. As my hip caught his fist, he looked up, expecting me to fold in half. I smiled.

“You’ll have to do better than that” I said. A also smiled as he swung his other arm around and grabbed my groin. I saw stars. “How’s that?”

I replied “OOF!” From deep within the dark cell Big Guy said “Can you two finish up your erotic playtime? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Releasing my groin, A turned to the room and said “F%#k off asshole!” I stumbled to the bench, leaving A to face Big Guy. Finally a seat!

Other awakened inmates yelled complaints or epithets at A. Nobody was actually willing to leave their benches for fear of losing them.

As A stood his ground the other inmates returned to sleep. A then looked over to where I was sitting on his bench, smiling. “Move!” he said.

I stayed where I was. A said “Are you moving or not?” I considered my alternatives. “I think ‘not’. You shouldn’t have offered me a choice.”

“What the f#@k are you doing?” “I’m sitting here until we see the judge.” “Like hell you are!” “I AM sitting here. See? I’m right here.”

I watched A consider taking another run at me and crossed my legs, bending them under the bench. Next to me in the car Regi says “TMI.”

After a moment, A shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside me. I said “We go back a long way together. Let me ask you something.” “Yeah?”

“All the time we worked together when you were City Coroner, you never told me you used to be Director of Willum Granger’s cloning lab.”

A said “If I had, would you have realized it was me who killed Granger with fast dissolving sutures and an upbeat ringtone?” “Probably not.”

“You strung me along while I worked on Granger’s murder, took advantage of inside information and played me for a fool.” “I wasn’t playing.”

“I never got why you killed him and in such a gruesome and humiliating manner. What was your problem?” “It wasn’t gruesome and humiliating.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

That Wasn’t Supposed to Happen! — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

From by Simone Rovellini

Here are Week 113 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

But ALL Regi’s elders met untimely ends! Wait. The THIRD Granger ISN’T dead! What’s HIS deal? “Regi, where is Stuart Granger?” “Dead.” Damn!

“Besides” Regi continues “he hasn’t made movies in years.” “I don’t mean the actor. I mean your uncle.” “Oh THAT Stuart Granger. Also dead.”

Damn! For a moment I thought I’d resolved a question nagging me since the beginning of this case. Who or what was Granger’s doppelgänger?

I was sitting in my Police Headquarters office when someone I thought was dead walked in. He looked just like Willum Granger, Regi’s father.

He may or may not have been a ghost, and now I’m not so sure he was Regi’s father. He claimed the world as we know it was coming to an end.

Was he playing games with me? Maybe. When he offered $50K to go get Regi I jumped at the chance. I would have done it for half that amount.

Had I known then what I know now I’d know a lot more now than I do. If Stuart is dead, who was that back when and will his check clear now?

“How did Stuart die?” Regi says “They found his head but not the rest of his body.” “Are they sure it was HIS head?” “Who else would it be?”

“Seems like there are many possibilities. How did they identify him as Stuart?” “I don’t know. Dental records?” “Maybe. DNA wouldn’t help.”

Had it been Stuart who set this whole thing in motion? “When did he die?” “I’m not sure. Probably when his head separated from his body.”

“No. What date, not what means.” “Oh. I don’t know. My mother and B just told me.” “Your mother and B?” “Yes. I saw them together at home.”

“Your mother and B are together?” “Yes. He’s moved into her Beeviary.” I’ve never heard it put that way. “She can understand what he says?”

“She understands him just fine.” “Even though B speaks only in consonants? Do you understand him?” “Not a word.” “Then how do you know?”

Regi remains silent. A Stuart Granger! How do I verify if he indeed is dead or if he is my doppelGranger? “They never found Stuart’s body?”

“Just his head.” “Strange. They don’t know how he died?” “Well, we can rule out suicide.” “I RULE OUT NOTHING!” “He cut off his own head?”

“Maybe.” Self-decapitation was not at the top of my list of likely solutions. I hate ceding any ground when it comes to crime deduction.

Regi’s disembodied news troubles me. I’ve sometimes lost my head, but I never had an out-of-body experience! Is Stuart Granger really dead?

Now I’ve got two murders to investigate. In both cases I start without an actual body of evidence, although Stuart does come out a head.

Regi says “One thing I don’t understand.” Good. Regi’s on the case with her unique perspective. “When do you find time to play Candy Crush?”

“Huh?’ “When I was tweeting for you I looked at your apps. When do you play Candy Crush?” “I don’t.” “You’re on level 237.” “No, I’m not.”

“Un Huh.” Changing the subject, Regi asks “You’ve tweeted how you lost your jacket and shirt. What happened to your pants?” “I’m not sure.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Rock Paper Scissors: The Movie — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 112 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

“The same. When I realized the bench perp was A, who split your father and tried to kill us too, I knew what I had to do.” “What was that?”

Back in jail I shrugged off my shirt, slipping from his grasp. I said “A, why aren’t you somewhere serving out your solitary life sentence?”

A replied “Time off for good behavior.” “Good behavior? You committed PRE-premeditated 1st degree murder and violated the Physician’s Oath!”

A tossed my shirt to the side. “I was VERY good.” “It doesn’t work that way!” “I was part of an initiative to reduce prison overcrowding.”

I look around the crowded cell. “How’s that working out?” “I’m back!” “What did you do this time? Drown puppies?” “No. I ran a red light.”

A handed me my now-torn shirt. “What brings you to our prison?” I considered a moment and replied “I’m accused of killing Farley Granger.”

A laughed aloud, prompting cries from the other slumbering inmates. When he finished he said “Ha! Wait. You mean Stuart don’t you?’ “Who?”

“Stuart Granger, Willum’s twin.” “No. You’re thinking of the actor. Willum’s brother was named Farley.” Beside me in the car Regi says “Um.”

A said “Willum’s brother was Stuart.” “That’s not right. I met Farley before he died.” “Before you killed him?” “NO!” Regi says “Uh, Arkaby”

Present time, riding in a car beside Regi, I say “Give me a second here Reg, I’m tweeting my reminiscences of my time in jail.” “Yes, but…”

I pulled A up from the bench. “Listen Asshole! Stuart Granger was a movie actor! “King Solomon’s Mines”! (1949) “Prisoner of Zenda”! (1952)

I shook A. “Once I’m out of this hole I’ll prove it!” “Get your hands off me you damned dirty ape!” “No. That was Charleton Heston (1968)!”

Regi says “Arkaby, you were wrong. My father had duplicate brothers. One of them was Farley, the other was Stuart – not the actor.” “Huh?”

“My father Willum, Farley and Stuart were identical triplets. I never knew it myself until just now.” “That’s incredible!” “That’s not all.”

I pause my tweeting to look over at Regi. “What else could there possibly be?” “Mother isn’t 100% sure which brother was my true father.”

A said “What do you mean?” “Regi is unsure of her parentage.” Regi says “How could A ask that in the past?” I am getting my tweets mixed up.

I read back through my tweets. A said “Get your hands off me you damned dirty ape!” I said it that was Charleton Heston, not Stuart Granger.

Right. Now Regi tells me Willum Granger was one of identical triplets. Why was he so set on making clones of himself? He already had clones!

Any of the triplets might be Regi’s real father. A question occurs to me. “Regi, couldn’t you find your true father with a paternity test?”

Regi says “They were identical. Their DNA is the same.” “So it really doesn’t matter.” “OF COURSE IT MATTERS! WILLUM WAS MY FATHER!” “OK.”

Regi’s revelation hits me like the hot kiss at the end of a wet fist. THREE Grangers! ONE of them her father! TWO were his genetic replicas!

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Prison Strip Tease — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 111 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

At this point I was the only one in the cell without a spot either laying or sitting on a bench or stretched out on the floor under a bench.

I repeated “‘MOVE!” Still no reaction. Big Guy said “That’s not how it’s done. Watch.” He got up, came over to my bench and shouted “HEY!”

“MOVE OVER!” My bench perp sat up. Big Guy said “That’s how it’s done.” He returned to his own bench. My perp resumed a reclining position.

Ah! So THAT’S how it’s done. Now I got it! I said “HEY! MOVE OVER!” No reaction. Big Guy just looked at me and shook his head. “Pitiful.”

No reaction. There’s a place you go in your mind at times like these. You don’t know why the perp won’t share the bench. Well, yeah, you do.

Clearly he desired to spend the night horizontal rather than upright. Well, me too. On the fulcrum of a decision, I faced a moment of truth.

Anticipating possibilities, I turned sideways to shrink my target area, shifted to my heels and bent my knees to lower my center of gravity.

My bench perp said “What the f#@k are you doing?” I said “Are you moving or not?” “Not.” My mistake. I shouldn’t have offered him a choice.

Without taking my eyes off him, I removed my jacket and wrapped it around my left arm. I said “Last time I’m asking. Are you moving over?”

Another cellmate came up and said “Hey man. Don’t do that to your coat. Let me hold it for you.” “OK. Thanks!” I never saw that coat again.

I’m ready, certain I’ll withstand a gun blast, a knife stab, a fistfight, jujitsu or anything else, up to and including a vehicular assault.

No reply from the recumbent perp. I hadn’t many items of clothing left to remove. Then he looked directly at me and said “Hey! You Arkaby?”

I tensed every muscle. “I’m DETECTIVE Arkaby. Sup?” “What a shock to meet you here.” “It is. And you are?” “Don’t you remember me? I’m A.”

He smiled enigmatically. What was his game? Was he stalling to solidify his bench position? I decided to play along. “OK. You’re a…what?”

He said “What?” “Yes. You’re a what?” “Nothing. I’m A!” “You’re nothing?” “NO. I’m not nothing. I’M A!” “Got that. I’m asking what are you?”

Big Guy said “Go on. I’m enjoying this.” Bench perp said “Stay out of this A-hole.” “If I understand right YOU’RE the A-hole.” “No, just A.”

I said “A What?” “Let’s try this. Remember the city Coroner?” “Yes. He was an A-hole.” “That was me.” “So you ARE an A-hole.” “NO! JUST A!”

Ow! Like a swift gut punch I realized the truth. A just punched me swiftly in the gut! I wasn’t ready for that! I realized something else.

That guy who took my jacket was gone! Where could he hide in a twenty by twenty cell? As I looked around, the bench perp grabbed my shirt.

He said “Dammit! You don’t remember me? I locked you and that bimbo in a freezer! I killed her father by suturing him together incorrectly!”

Piloting the car as I recount my lockup encounter, Regi says “Who’d he call a bimbo?” “That would be you.” “A, that self-righteous quack!”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Overcrowded Prisons — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 110 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

Covering the mouthpiece I said “Remind me never to make a call from jail in the future.” “Everyone here wishes you’d stop in the present.”

Ignoring them I resumed “How can you live like the Sun orbits Earth?” Behind me someone said “It doesn’t?” Someone else said “Yes it does.”

Regi said “Everyone still thinks Earth is center of the universe. We still say ‘sunrise’ and ‘sunset.'” I gave up. “OK Forget all that.”

I reached an impasse. “I was sent to find you because someone is trying to change all of reality as we know it.” “Oh please!” someone cried.

Defiantly turning to face the mob behind me, I said “That’s the paradigm shift.” In unison Regi and Big Guy exclaimed “Who told you that?”

“I thought your father’s ghost clone or maybe Farley pretending to be your father’s ghost.” Someone in back shouted “You believe in ghosts?”

“NO, I DON’T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS BUT I KNOW HOW TO MAKE ONE! NOW BACK OFF!” I realized I just yelled that into the phone. “Sorry about that.”

From the earpiece Regi whispered “Are you OK?” The crowd of detainees waiting to phone pressed forward again. “Just a little prison banter.”

Regi said “Did someone hit you in the head?” Huh? Was Regi implying my talk of ghosts and her uncle pretending to be a ghost sounded crazy?

I had to set her mind at ease “No.” I said “I know now it wasn’t any of them who sent me on this quest.” “Who was it?” “I still don’t know.”

A familiar voice interrupted “To continue please deposit twenty five cents.” Where had I heard that voice before? “I’ve got to hang up.”

I knew that voice! Regi said “You haven’t answered my question.” “Which is?” “Why am I tweeting?” There was a ‘CLICK’ and we were cut off.

I was out of quarters and time. I hung up and turned to face those in line. Everyone else in the cell left their benches to stand before me.

Big Guy said “You done with that phone call?” “Who wants to know?” Most of my cellmates raised their hands. “Well then, yes I am.” “Good.”

Big Guy stepped to the phone and deposited a quarter. The rest returned to their benches or remained in line. I looked for a place to sit.

Nothing. Every available space was taken. Would I stand all night? I looked through bars at an empty mirror-image cell across the corridor.

Above the cell door was painted one word “Felons.” I leaned over, but I couldn’t read the sign above our cell. I thought WE were the felons.

Behind me I heard snoring. Could my sleepy cellmates actually be felons? If we were all felons, why put us all in this one overcrowded cell?

I realized that we hadn’t yet been convicted of anything, just detained. We were potential felons, not actual ones. Except me, of course.

As I considered this Big Guy finished his call, walked over to a bench and said “Move over.” The smaller guy laying along the bench sat up.

THAT was how to do it! I surveyed the cell, chose a likely candidate and strolled over to the bench he occupied. “Move over.” No response.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Phonesense, Nonsense and Twenty-Five Cents — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

Here are Week 109 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

I couldn’t say I tweet because her father’s ghost told me to. I thought of something else. “We tweet so that we can get up again.” “Huh?”

I don’t think she bought it. “That makes no sense at all. Get up from where?” She had a point. I would have settled for getting out of jail.

I tried again “How about this: ‘I tweet therefore I am.’ That means that what I tweet defines who I am.” Big Guy said “Yeah? Tweet this.”

The grumbling behind me intensified. Regi said “I tweet therefore I am? So you don’t exist right now?” “No. I exist, I’m just not tweeting.

“You’re not tweeting because you’re in jail.” At that cell lights went dark, leaving only a lamp above the pay phone. “I know I’m in jail.”

Some prisoners on benches snored. Others hissed “Shut UP!” I whispered “They’re holding me over til morning when I go before the judge.”

“You have to post bail to get me out.” “I’ll be there.” The line behind me pressed forward again. Then Regi said “I have one last question.”

“Yes?” “Why am I tweeting?” “It’s a long story.” Someone back in line said “Time m#4ther f@cker! Get off the damn phone!” “I SAID A MINUTE!”

“My tweets are evidence of the paradigm shift.” Regi said “What’s a paradigm shift, a designer dress?” Big Guy said “What paradigm shift?”

“A paradigm shift is a change in the way we view reality.” Regi said “Tell me again in plain English.” Big Guy said “What paradigm shift?”

“How about this: Do you believe the Earth is flat or round?” “Both.” Big Guy said “Round asshole.” I covered the phone and hissed “Quiet!”

To Regi I said “Huh?” “I KNOW the Earth is round, but I live on it as if it’s flat.” Big Guy said “What does it matter what she believes?”

I ignored him and asked Regi “What do you mean?” She said “I don’t believe I’d fall off the Earth’s edge if I travel too far east or west.”

Did Regi think the world rode on a big turtle? What about the elephants? “But you WOULD fall off a flat Earth!” “Not if I stop soon enough.”

Regi asked “Why don’t I fall off a round Earth?” “Because of gravity!” “An invisible force keeping me from floating away? Give me a break!”

Someone muttered “Damn flatland bitch.” I turned in response “NO SHE’S NOT!” “What was that?” “Nothing. Comments from my fellow detainees.”

I continued “You don’t believe in gravity?” “I’ll believe it when I see it.” A voice says “Deposit 25 cents to continue.” I dug for change.

Whispers of anticipation came from those waiting line behind me. “His money has run out!” “He’s out of change!” “He’s finished!” “Hooray!”

There! One last coin! “This is my last quarter” I said as the two-bit piece went “Clink!” in the phone receptacle. Several in line groaned.

No matter. I had a few precious minutes more to get Regi to see reason. “OK. Try this: Does the Sun circle the Earth or vice versa?” “Both.”

That didn’t do it. “Really?” “Yes. I KNOW the Earth orbits the Sun. I live the opposite.” Big Guy said “Hey man, save this for the judge.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Why Do We Tweet? — Tweeted Mystery “The Golden Parachute” Continues

 Here are Week 108 @Twitstery tweets of The Golden Parachute, the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance!

They looked doubtful. “I’ve spent my career putting lowlifes like you guys in places like this. I know something about guilt and innocence.”

Scowling, Big Guy said “No need to get personal. You don’t know me.” Everyone nodded or said “Me too.” “Yet here you all are.” “You too.”

This discussion wasn’t getting us anywhere. I wasn’t convincing them of my innocence. They weren’t convincing me of their not-guilty-ness.

I considered pressing the issue but I happened to be the only ex-cop in the holding cell. The odds weren’t good that my point would prevail.

It was my turn to call. Depositing a quarter, I dialed my own phone. Regi picked up “Hello?” “Hi Regi.” “Arkaby? How are you calling me?”

“You’re my one phone call. Are you coming to bail me out?” “Uh, sure! On my way!” What a relief! I didn’t relish spending the night in jail.

With Regi on the job my jail time was finite. She was one focused on getting it done! Then she said “Why is the ringtone ‘Brown Eyed Girl’?”

Huh? My ringtone? Behind me a guy muttered “Hurry up.” I replied “I like ‘Brown Eyed Girl.'” Big Guy said “I bet.” Other inmates snickered.

Regi said “You know my eyes are blue don’t you?” A trick question? “Uh sure! I just like that song.” Someone behind me said “Hurry up, man!”

I gave him a look. “What about ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’?” What were we talking about? “What about it?” “‘She’s got eyes of the bluest skies…'”

“That’s good too.” Someone yelled “Get off the phone!” I displayed a finger. “‘I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.'”

“Still quoting Guns N’ Roses?” “Just saying it would make a good ring tone.” “Got it.” Big Guy says “Are you getting music on that phone?”

I covered phone and said “I’ll finish in a minute.” Regi said “Where do we go, where do we go?” “GOT IT!” “No seriously. Where do we go?”

Big Guy said “Yeah, you got it all right.” Others waiting in line pressed forward. “Regi, I’m calling on a payphone in my communal cell.”

Shoved up against the phone I said “There’s a line waiting behind me that’s, let’s say, impatient.” My cellmates chanted “Hang up! Hang up!”

Bracing against the wall, I continued “Get me out of here to a warm safe place and I’ll figure out where do we go.” “Get off the phone!”

“Are you still tweeting?” “Of course I am.” Clasping the phone handset between my cheek and shoulder, I shrugged my jacket off once again.

There’s a place you go in your mind at times like these. “Is that why you take so long to answer me? “Yes.” I couldn’t shift my balance.

Why did they push me up against the wall? “You have to finish our conversation and then tweet it afterwards.” I didn’t know what to expect.

Regi said “OK. Why do I have to tweet everything?” Anticipating possibilities, I turned sideways and said “I’LL BE DONE IN A MINUTE!” “Huh?”

Uh oh. Had I just yelled that into the phone? Everyone in line took a step back. “I was speaking to the guy behind me.” “Why do we tweet?”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)